


Medical Menagerie

by Sanzaru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fragging, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Secret Solenoid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 17:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanzaru/pseuds/Sanzaru
Summary: A gift for Shibara for Secret Solenoid! A combination of these two prompts:G1: Hook, Ratchet. Prompt: The war has ended recently, and Hook and Ratchet have to learn to share their living space in the only health centre open on Cybertron.-G1: Constructicons/Ratchet. Prompt: (Nsfw) Post-war. Very drunk Ratchet bets he could bonk Hook's whole combiner team if he wanted to, and Hook wages he can't, just to see what happens."This ended up way longer than originally planned! I've never written for G1 or for the constructicons so this was brand new territory!





	Medical Menagerie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shibara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shibara/gifts).



Ratchet was straightening up his table, his personal table at least in the medical bay that he and Hook currently shared. There were only but so many hospitals built at the moment and they required their most efficient medics as close to the predominant population as possible. Hook was a perfectionist to an extreme point and was prepping supplies since he didn't like the way Ratchet had done it. Which was nearly identical but Hook wanted it done his own way. It was faintly irritating but Ratchet was nothing if not pragmatic. Ratchet knew he had to just deal with it, with the war over there was some concessions made by everyone. For himself it was that he had to work with the insane medic. Well, insane may be a bit of a strong term but it still fit the other medic. Hook and his entire team, though Scrapper and Long Haul were comparatively easier to deal with but they weren't medics themselves. More like nurses.

 

Finishing up his own work, he looked around but hadn't seen Hook return yet. ‘Probably left already. Would have been nice to be told that though.’. Both their shifts were technically over, though they were both on call for the rest of the night in case of serious emergencies.

 

Ratchet gathered his few belongings and shut the lights off. He needed a drink and intended to go to Maccadams since it had only recently reopened. Transforming the moment, he was out of the building and hurrying off. Ratchet required the relaxation that drinking heavily would accord him. He wouldn't usually indulge as heavily as he intended to tonight, especially when he was technically on call. But there were several severe cases of damage he wasn't certain he would be able to fix, at least not for a long while and they had stressed his processor. They simply didn't have the parts or the ability to fabricate parts. 

 

Shaking his helm the moment, he transformed back to root mode, entering the establishment. A few waves were thrown his way and he waved idly back, not really perceiving who it was at the moment. A drink was procured, and he went to sit down by himself, facing away from most of the crowd to try and get some solitude. It was only a matter of time though before his audials picked up on some rather unruly talking, vocalizers growing louder. He ordered another drink, trying to ignore the talking, purposefully not looking at the noisemakers behind himself.

 

By the time Ratchet was on his fifth drink the ambulance was getting really irritable. The noise was growing intolerable and moment later he felt someone fall back against him. A fight breaking out behind him. Ratchet stood up so swiftly he knocked his chair back as he spun around, practically growling and wondering where he'd left his wrench.

 

"Can you slaggers at least try to behave in public?!" Ratchet was yelling before he recognized who he was looking at. The highgrade had his optics spinning. Once he recognized them his reaction was only feeling more disappointment. 

 

'Fragging Hook, causing me trouble no matter where I go!' Ratchet felt himself waver slightly, and a servo caught him. Glaring at the green extremity before batting it off. He was reasonably certain it was Scrapper who caught him before he fell. It appeared to be Mixmaster possibly that originally pushed him though. 'The whole fragging team is here, no wonder they're acting foolish. They've always been worst together.'

 

"Ratchet? Of course, the loudest grump would be you. You here to drag the whole room down into your foul mood?" Bonecrusher- At least he thought it was Bonecrusher. To be fair in his current state the matching colors of the gestalt were not making it particularly easy to tell them apart. He'd never liked green and purple. Especially purple. Purple was the worst color.

 

"And don't you think there's a better use for those mouths of yours than spouting nonsense? I hear enough of it at work from you!" Ratchet pointed to roughly where he saw Hook. Or thought he saw Hook. It really was difficult to tell the difference between the six Constructicons with his visual feed as blurred as it was. 

 

“That mouth is going to get him into trouble.”

"Yeah, and he should set his mouth to better use!"

“It’s a real pretty mouth though...”

"He's overcharged, Hook."

"I'd like to see that mouth around my spike, though..."

"He'd probably bite off your spike thinking it was a rust stick given how small it is!" 

 

Boisterous laughter and another pushing match ensued, merely making Ratchet angrier. He didn’t like not being able to tell who was exactly talking and he started pushing his energy levels to other frame functions.

 

"Can you stop employing the wrong terminology! It's a connector..." Grumping at them, hating that he wasn't confident who was talking to who but there was one thing Ratchet was sure of. Slang terminology was obnoxious to the audials. "And I bet I could keep all your connectors occupied. Or your ports and intakes if you wanted."

 

"I'll take that bet." Several pairs of optics turned to the table behind them, Hook wiping at some dust he couldn't seem to get rid of; glaring at it for defying him. "I'll bet you tap out after Scavenger alone in fact."

 

"Ha! You didn't attend the medical academy. You can scarcely imagine what I'm capable of. I'll bet I'll outlast the lot of you." Ratchet actually liked the sound of getting rid of some of his charge actually. When had he gotten so overcharged? "I'll take that bet and stuff it and my spike up your tailpipe."

 

The constructicons got up and looked between each other, silent communication passing through their bond.

 

"You serious Ratchet? This is your chance to say you don't want to undertake this?" The calm lilt of Scrapper's vocalizer came to his audials and Ratchet smiled.

 

"Sure, been a while since I had a whole gestalt team in my berth but I still remember how to please a number of mechs at once. I'll grab some plain energon, probably head to your place since mine might be a bit small for so many of us at once. Then I'll show you lot exactly how it's done." Slamming the rest of his drink down and heading to the bar to get a single shot of plain energon to level out his charge.

 

The constructicons were left mumbling to themselves, unsure but equally interested to see if Ratchet indeed intended to do this with them. It had been awhile that they'd had anyone outside of their gestalt. 

"Is he serious?" ‘Maybe Scrapper’

"Ratchet is usually serious." ‘Definitely Hook… Fragger.’

"He's overcharged, though..." ‘Possible Scavenger?’

"So we'll let him get a bit more sobered up. Hook you possess something to help with that I'd wager." ‘Afthole Bonecrusher probably.’

"We'll check again before we go for it." ‘Mixmaster’s deeper vocalizer.’

"He'll probably be too tired and fall into recharge on us anyways because of his progressive age." ‘If they’re all taking their turns to talk I guess Long Haul…?’ Ratchet was done trying to analyze their voices though, not really caring who said what much.

 

"I heard that you afts. You ready to lead the way? Or are you backing out of this? And if I win then I get to set Hook's schedule for the foreseeable future." Ratchet glared, optic feed clearing up properly as he displaced more of his charge from the engex. Ratchet headed towards the door, looking over his shoulder with a grin behind him. "Coming? Or am I having fun by myself?"

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The Constructicons nearly stumbled over themselves getting to the door, except Hook who was glaring but following at a more sedate pace. "Doesn't seem like he lacks anything beyond a good spiking to rid himself of that charge if you ask me." Hook grumbled, watching Ratchet’s aft as they left Maccaddam’s without meaning to.

 

Hook watched as his gestalt mate’s tightly surrounded the other medic, glaring at the back of their helms and backs. He limited his own field tight to his frame, not wanting to mix with his gestalt members. The others were too excited to note his absence with being distracted by the idea of someone, anyone, to interface with outside of their group. Trailing the enthusiastic escorts, trying not to define the feeling in his spark making him want to snarl at them for even touching Ratchet.

 

He watched Ratchet look around when they got to their place, seeing how his optics looked it over. It wasn’t big, but it was built for a combiners team to be together so it was decently sized. At least for after the war when space was limited. He really would prefer more but big enough for what they needed.

 

"I suppose it will do. I've worked in more confined spaces. Now- Wait a minute, hold on there!" Ratchet pushed a servo from his shoulder, one of his gestalt already proving he was over-eager to start.

 

"I have to get ready. I'd like you lot to line up and show me your connectors, so I can decide on your placement. I don't have time to execute this with you lot one at a time." Ratchet went and sat down on the large berth which was dark, dominating the room in it’s width impressively. Hook thought his white plating shone in the midst of their dark furnishings.. It was almost too big but sometimes, often, they liked to recharge together. They were used to.

 

Hook watched Ratchet look over them, barely stifling his fans as the other medic opened his interface panel, his own connector and ports coming uncovered. Hook tried not to stare but he couldn't help himself either. He slipped to the back of the group even further.

 

The other constructicons were slow to respond to the obvious flirtation, their optics nearly bugging out. None of them could look away as Ratchet slid his digits into his valve, lubricant already shining. ‘How is he already so ready to go? Must be some weird trick he learned. Fragging show-off’. Hook shifted on his pedes, purposefully looking elsewhere from the scene.

 

"I need to see your connectors in order to decide where you should all be and in what order. I don't intend to have trouble walking out of here." Ratchet reiterated his earlier demand, this time actually getting most of his gestalt to respond. Hook crossed his arms and turned further away. He wasn’t going to be caught out like this! He’d never hear the end of it!

 

"If Hook doesn't participate, I'll win the bet by default and will leave right now." Ratchet’s voice was like a sluice of cold solvent on his plating, helm whipping around to glare at him for demanding he agree to this. Watching Ratchet spread his thighs right in front of him had his frame desperately wanted to respond to the alluring display. Hook continued to push his arousal to the back of his processor, staving it off. Still he couldn’t look away as Ratchet continued to ‘prepare’ himself.

 

“Why do I have to participate anyways?! Can’t you just frag the rest of my gestalt on your own?” Hissing angrily even as the other members began harassing him, pushing and cajoling him as best they could despite they all preferred to watch Ratchet touching himself.

 

“Because Hook, you bet me for your whole gestalt and that includes you too. It is possible I just want to examine your equipment.” Ratchet practically purred it out and Hook found his interface panel sliding down even as he looked away from the scene, trying to seize control of himself. Ratchet look pretty pleased as his spike unsheathed itself. 

 

"So, I think to start I'll have Scrapper, Scavenger and Mixmaster first. Scavenger, you'll be in front of me. Mixmaster will get my frontal port and Scrapper, you'll take my rear port." Ratchet’s vocalizer cut like a scalpel into Hook’s spark. He was not one of the first ones and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He would personally not like any of the rest of them to touch Ratchet. Hook also didn’t want to take away one of the few times they could interface as a team either.  For all his blustering about his team he still was connected to them. A part of him even relished the idea of seeing Ratchet stretched between the other’s, experiencing the way he felt beneath servo’s that weren’t his own. If he stretched out his processor a bit and offlined his optics he could cause them feel like his own… But he didn’t desire that. He wanted his first touch to be his own.

 

At least he knew he was being saved for the second go around. The first group chosen was Scrapper, Scavenger and Mixmaster. Hook would have to wait… He hated waiting. He genuinely did enjoy what a spectacle Ratchet put on but he detested the idea of his more brutal teammates touching Ratchet. Being rough was one thing, but if they wrecked him… His field flared outwards, glaring at them. ‘If ya’ll wreck him before my turn…’ Hook barely stifled an engine growl.

 

“Unless someone wants to get ‘spiked’ instead? That’s the crude terminology you prefer, isn’t it?” Hook glared at Ratchet for insinuating such a thing, resolving to turn around until his ‘turn’, despite his engine revving in desire. The rest of his team knew how much he desired Ratchet and presumably regarded this as his best opportunity. They had even mocked him about wanting Ratchet’s spike, which wasn’t something he could deny as easily as he would like.

 

Facing the wall purposefully, only listening to what was going on behind him. Though that painted enough of a picture for him, along with the raging fields entwining with his own, despite his best efforts to stand apart for now. His own engine barely receiving a break as he tried to silence it so he could listen properly to his team and Ratchet enjoying themselves.

 

“The rest of you will have to wait and watch for now, I only have so many ports. Feel free to play with yourselves though.” Ratchet let out a teasing chuckle and the sound was delightful but still Hook didn’t allow himself turn around. “On your back Mixmaster, got to secure space for the rest of your team.”

 

The sound of movement, the flare of delight through multiple fields and the sound of lubricant squelching as it was displaced by a spike. ‘Or connector’ he sneered to himself. The sounds of clanging and Mixmaster moaning with his deep baritone vocalizer. The sound of fans, those actively engaged and even those merely watching, including his own, were loud in the room, echoing around them.

 

“Scrapper, I expect you to know what to do with a rear port, it’s already prepped but try to be careful back there since you’re the first I’ve had in awhile.” Ratchet’s vocalizer delivered instruction like he was on the operating room table and Hook found his spark spinning even faster, barely concealing it from his gestalt team. He didn’t need them revealing it to Ratchet. Hook couldn’t help the glance over his shoulder as Ratchet spoke, his field flaring in desire that his team had been chosen. He wasn’t sure what made him want Ratchet so much, he supposed it was primarily how he seemed to do the impossible time and again.

 

The sight of the three getting into place where Ratchet wanted them and the first sounds of friction and moans had Hook turning away once more. He could deal with the knowledge of someone else having Ratchet. The mech was old even by their standards so the idea he had been celibate, even amongst prudish autobots, was ludicrous but that didn’t mean he had to watch. He could feel enough through their bond anyways, forcing him to endure it all but watching was too much.

 

Scavenger was losing some of his anxiousness that plagued their bond, Hook could feel it and he couldn’t help enjoying the quiet from it. Ratchet must thoroughly know how to work his intake around a spike for that to happen. There was no way the materials director could hold out for very long. 

 

Hook could detect the sounds of clanging, the scrape of armor on armor, all mixing with the sound of fans and gasps from his team. Ratchet’s moans were muffled, if he were reacting at all. Hook hoped he wasn’t. Hook wanted it to be himself that showed the other medic up, to wring an overload out of him.

 

A deep moan and the feel of overload flooded the bond between them all, Hook whipping his helm around to see Scavenger clinging to Ratchet’s helm, his frame shaking as the ambulance swallowed around the load of transfluid being pumped into his intake. Slowly the constructicon pulled away, panting through his vents heavily.

 

Hook was even more entranced at the sight of Ratchet’s faceplates, quickly looking away so he didn’t have to see him possibly overload as Mixmaster and Scapprer continued rolling their hips. The flood of enjoyment through the bond didn’t take them long though, succumbing to whatever tricks Ratchet seemed to be employing to urge things along faster. And Hook was sure he was. His team was generally passionate to overload, being a mess of eager fragger’s but even he knew they were being brought to overloaded awfully quickly. ‘Likely Employing some dirty medic academy trick. Fragger. Need him to enlighten me on that trick…’

 

Mixmaster went first, a loud groan reverberating the room around them all with the force of his overload, Ratchet suspiciously silent even as Scrapper moaned out his own overload as well. Scrapper was quick to move off, his spike pulling free from Ratchet’s aft port with a wet pop. Watching it all, Hook couldn’t help the rev of his own engine, even as he watched Scrapper gently stroke at the white plating, helping Ratchet disengage himself from Mixmaster. Ratchet seemed to enjoy the touch, even arching into it before looking out at the other gestalt members.

 

“Well, that’s half of you down, three overloads and none of them mine. No wonder you don’t have too many breaking down your door to associate with you.” The teasing obvious even as he dripped a mixture of transfluid and lubricant on Mixmaster’s frame from his ports in a lewd but alluring display. Those dripping ports were practically enough to force himself forward, but he wanted Ratchet to ask for him. 

 

Hook refused to be as demanding as his teammates. He had at least slightly more class than them. He could wait. He could. Still, the idea of what he could do to those ports or his own looking like that when Ratchet was done. It was almost too much. Clamping on their bond, refusing to permit himself get wound up like the others. ‘No wonder they’re so quick, it’s like their spikes were already bursting before we started!’ That wasn’t that unlikely tough.

 

“Now then, let’s allow the next couple have a chance. Perhaps this time I’ll overload. Don’t expect me to leave until I’ve gotten at least one, though more would be nice.” Ratchet moved off of Mixmaster, pushing at him to move. He glared but still seemed too blissed out to do more than follow the direction of the push. Scrapper pulled on him, a bit more aware though his field was deeply singing of his satiation. 

 

Ratchet stretched, changing his positioning, moving onto his back as he stretched. Showcasing his messy interface array. Hook found himself staring at the interface array on such a lewd display before him, absolutely eager to join in but it seemed Ratchet included other plans in store for him.

 

“Next two… and then you’ll leave the medics alone and maybe Hook can prove to me if he knows something I don’t or not.” Ratchet grinned as he maneuvered around a bit. “Unless Bonecrusher and Long Haul are going to fight over my frontal port? One of them can take spike or you’ll have to perform together while using my intake from this position.”

  
  


Hook couldn’t believe the words coming from Ratchet’s intake, his engine revving from the idea that Ratchet desired him alone. In spite of that, he still fought his engine to stop revving so loudly, turning his systems reactions to the absolute minimum he could get away with. Long Haul definitely noticed and chuckled at him before turning to glare at Bonecrusher, the two sizing each other up briefly. 

 

::You owe me Long… and you know I’ll crush you later if I don’t get my way.:: Bonecrusher grinned, looming slightly over Long Haul. ::Ain’t no way am I placing my spike anywhere near his lip plates and I for sure ain’t permitting him at my valve.:: Long Haul finally nodded and moved to be near Ratchet’s helm, the medic lying on his back with a suspicious look. It was apparent there had been a gestalt bond talk but even if he’d been patched into them Ratchet wouldn’t have been able to perceive it. Bonecrusher moved to between Ratchet's thighs, his spike prodding at his rear port just to see. Bonecrusher tended to like easily damaged aftports...

 

“I said exactly what I meant, You are definitely not allowed anywhere near my more easily damaged anatomy.” Bonecrusher glared back but shifted the tip of his spike to the frontal port, pushing in as harshly as he could. Ratchet groaned, seeming to enjoy the slight pain well enough, surprising for everyone in the room but himself. At least Hook couldn’t see any sign of discomfort. 

 

::If you damage him Bonecrusher I’ll dismantle your spike while you recharge!:: Hook was glaring daggers at the most violent of their group, daring him to make good on the threat. Bonecrusher rolled his optics but nodded even as he began moving.

  
  


“You ready?” Long Haul looked around for a moment before also baring his frontal port, his valve leaking. “It’s to be like that then? Or did you just think to test me?” Ratchet’s servos pulled the transporter into position, Long Haul surprised but eagerly coming to sit over Ratchet’s helm, knees on either side.

 

There was a few surprised sounds as Ratchet began using his glossa on Long Haul’s valve, shoving deep into the other’s passage. Long Haul rocked forward, gasping out. Neither Hook, nor the rest of the gestalt were willing to undertake this and it had been so long since Long Haul had a valve overload. The mesh was intensely sensitive and his spike showed exactly how much he was enjoying this. Hook couldn’t stand sitting immobile any longer and stepped forward, servo grasping Long Haul's spike and stroking it to hurry his overload along. 

 

::I want my turn you bastards. Hurry up!::

::You’ll get it soon! He does weird things with his valve…Good weird::

::His glossa though… You guys missed out!::

 

Bonecrusher stared down at Ratchet’s lip plates as he rocked hard and fast against Ratchet’s frame; as if he could demand the medic to overload for him via brute force. Ratchet had been smart with his chosen order of them, even Hook would admit that. Still… he hated that he would be the last to enjoy him but he’d prefer if he was the one to wring every overload out of Ratchet that he received tonight with them. 

 

Long Haul looked back in surprise at Hook, receiving only a glare but he enjoyed it all the more as Long Haul leaned back against him. Hook opened his bond, feeling of both his valve and spike being worked would carry him over quickly if he wasn’t careful with the sensations coming through the bond. He could even feel the others standing around them, watching, hoping for another turn. 

 

::NO! After this he’s all mine! I wanted him first! You aftfraggers are just lucky I don’t offline you in your sleep!::

 

Hook glared at them, challenging them even as he hissed softly. His rage kept his own overload at bay. How dare they touch or sully ‘His Ratchet’. A deeply possessive streak was starting. The others pulled back from his side of the bond slightly, understanding, upset and derision all coloring the bond in equal measure. Scrapper’s field flooded the room though and even the upset pulled back, and he was left in relative peace. Finally.

 

“You’ve proven your point Ratchet… hurry this up. Show me your tricks” Hook grumped, trying to hide the rev of his own engine as he continued stroking Long Haul and glaring at Bonecrusher. “You- Hurry it up. I deserve my turn more than you do… Wouldn’t even be here if not for me.” Grumbling loudly, angrily staring at Bonecrusher who slackened his pace and grinned back at Hook.

 

“I’ll do as I please, I could be here all night with him if I want. You have access to his oral cavity if you can get Long Haul to surrender it though.” Bonecrusher gave an extra hard shove of his hips, making Ratchet’s vents hitch and an angry transformation sound before Bonecrusher grunted in pain, his frame’s movement stalled out suddenly as he looked down at his spike.

 

“I think you better behave or he won’t allow you to overload ‘Crusher…” Long Haul laughed, the sound morphing into a moan, his hips rolling slowly and pressing down for extra attention against a particular node. It was apparent that Ratchet seemed to catch on as Long Haul's frame shuddered. Hook’s servo vibrating and giving an electric shock to his spike at the same moment. It was enough to throw Long Haul into an intense overload, transfluid falling across Ratchet’s chest even as his faceplates were covered with lubricant. 

 

Hook shoved Long Haul off and away from Ratchet’s frame; optics almost bulging at the mess that was left. A cleaning cloth was brought out of his subspace, and he was cleaning Ratchet’s frame, trying to make him look more presentable. 

 

“Hook, it’s fine.” Ratchet spoke softly, even as his vents were kicking up more as Bonecrusher started to rock into him harder; the large frame straining eagerly for release. He was going to be a long one to wait for and Hook couldn’t help the glare. 

 

“Turn over… I’ll take your spike.” The surprise he felt through the bond practically caused him take it back, but he didn’t want to wait anymore. He’d never minded being spiked, but Decepticon politics and some of his rougher teammates had made him never offer it. He wanted Ratchet. He coveted him so badly it hurt and he never thought he’d obtain this chance. ‘May as well take every opportunity…’ The stunned faces around him made him even more uncomfortable, but he wasn’t like Scavenger and he steeled his struts as he waited for Ratchet and Bonecrusher to move around. 

 

“Alright…” Ratchet seemed quite stunned but he pushed at Bonecrusher until he popped out of his valve and moved, straddling Hook as he got into place beneath him. Bonecrusher wasted no time shoving his way back into the open valve beneath him, glaring over Ratchet’s shoulder at Hook as if he’d been trying to sneak his way between them. He rarely allowed anyone near his valve, too many connotations of submission associated with it usually for him to indulge in the release of a valve overload.

 

Hook bared his fangs at Bonecrusher even as he let the panel of his valve move away, reaching between his thighs to spread his valve lips to help direct Ratchet in given the other medic’s inability to reach down in his position currently. Ratchet looked stunned but not at all unhappy which definitely did not cause Hook’s spark to spin a little faster.

 

Staring up at the medic, trying not to notice the way his frame rocked as Bonecrusher continued to pound into his valve even as he was slowly speared by Ratchet’s spike or connector as he seemed to prefer. Letting his helm roll back with an audible moan, noticing instantly that Ratchet’s spike was definitely, most assuredly, buzzing slightly and growing more intense as it pushed deeper into him. 

 

“How the frag are you managing that??” Hook gasped as finally Ratchet was seated fully into his valve, pressed up against his anterior node and ceiling node to absolute perfection. Hook’s servos grasped at white shoulders, gripping tight enough to dent. Nothing self-repair wouldn’t fix, though.

 

“Secret. Have to advise you when these other fraggers aren’t nearby. We like to keep it in limited medical circles.” Ratchet simply grinned down at him, enjoying the way their frame’s were rubbed and shoved against each other simply by Bonecrusher still actively moving. 

 

Hook didn’t even care about moving with the way Ratchet’s spike was vibrating right against his node but he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. His face plates must have given him away as the vibrations lessened a bit and his optics lit up brightly to stare at Ratchet in shock.

 

“Can’t permit you to get away that quickly. Not before I get at least one overload.” Ratchet seemed to be practically ignoring the mech behind him but his frame still tensed now and again, holding himself off obviously.‘Was Ratchet waiting on him…?’ Hook couldn’t stand looking up at him, not with those thoughts going through his processor and he off-lined his optics, servo’s digging into white plating as he arched into the medic above him.

 

Hook was surprised by the lack of trash talking from his team but maybe he was merely ignoring it in favour of his entire processor being centered on Ratchet instead? He did seem to hear quite a lot of nonsense around him, but he continued to tune it out, instead choosing to completely focus on Ratchet.

 

Leaving his optics offline, not wanting to glimpse the faces of his team even as he felt an overload flood the bond just before Ratchet seemed to start moving on his own. The vibrations increased slowly, making him moan wantonly, his hips spreading and legs wrapping around Ratchet as he gained space to do so. ‘Bonecrusher must have finally moved off… That means Ratchet’s all mine now right?’ Finally on-lining his optics to be startled into seeing Ratchet’s bright blue so close to his own.

 

“Hiding from me or from everyone else Hook?” Ratchet was whispering, his vocalizer glitching slightly as he began thrusting harder into Hook. Hook nodded, not trusting his own vocalizer as he closed the bond to his gestalt mates. He could overhear them sputter and growl about it but they were still observing them and that was more than enough. Thrusting his hips up to deepen the contact before he felt Ratchet moan deeply as he finally overloaded, the transfluid flooding his valve.

 

The flood of transfluid caught him by surprise but Ratchet didn’t stop just because he overloaded. A servo reached between them to pulse warm vibrations against his anterior node, carrying him into overload as well despite his desire to carry on. Ratchet wasn't finished though, looking at him intently as he continued to roll his hips, much gentler motions now.

 

“I won.” Ratchet grinned even as he twisted them over, now looking up at Hook from beneath him and bucking his hips as he deepened their contact.

 

“Double or nothing?” Hook grinned back down at him, magnetizing his servos to stroke transformation seams along Ratchet’s hip seams.

 

“Only if we go to my place. I’d prefer less optics.”

 

“Deal.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Entangled Wood helped me flesh this out and I'm utterly grateful for her assistance! I apologize for it being so late, health and work issues came up along with busy holidays and work.


End file.
